


Got Milk?

by Sarcophagus



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Animal Transformation, Episode Tag, Halloween, Humor, Twisted, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5115401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcophagus/pseuds/Sarcophagus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Perry broke the curse of the werecow. This is one night they'll never, ever talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Milk?

**Author's Note:**

> Perryshmirtz implied. Note "weirdness" and "twisted" tags.

# Got Milk?

 

In the hour before dawn Perry ran down his nemesis in a dark alley. The angry mob had given up pursuit and scattered. Only Perry bothered to stay on the werecow's trail. Tracking it wasn't hard. Instinct had led the creature downtown, close to home. When he spotted a horned shadow behind a dumpster he readied his lasso and went in.

Perry preferred open ground for confrontations, though he admitted the blind alley was iconic with its deep shadows and rusty fire escape. He approached with extreme caution. The creature might be small as cows went but it had fully functional horns. He did not want 'gored by werecow' as his epitaph. 

The werecow sat on its haunches, panting softly, more like a dog than a bovine. Its head drooped with weariness. The moon madness had finally run its course. Except that it wore the remnants of a lab coat over stretchy boxers and smelled of cheap cologne rather than the barnyard, Perry would hardly have recognized the howling beast that had rampaged all around town with such glee.

The cow moaned. Perry saw its flanks quiver. The creature was more than exhausted, it was in pain.

Perry had spent much of his Halloween chasing this monstrosity. He had bruises on top of bruises from the mob's trampling. He wasn't a vet, he was a secret agent and in his judgment the threat to public safety had been neutralized. He could call it a night and go home. The effect of the inator should wear off by daylight, and then Doofenshmirtz could take care of his own problem.

The werecow tilted its head to one side. Bad light or no, Perry had seen those puppy eyes too many times not to recognize them. Resigned, he put down the lasso.

The cow's soft nose nudged him towards its belly, where the udder bulged like a fleshy balloon. The creature changed position, thrusting the hot rubbery mass into his arms. He gritted his teeth and palpated the organ. Finding no injuries he lowered his paws.

Another nudge told him unmistakably to keep going. What, did the beast want a massage? He probed the udder again. Light dawned. His idiot nemesis had turned himself into a dairy cow and stuffed himself with grass. He needed milking.

Perry recoiled. The werecow met his stare with the same familiar pleading look and moaned again, almost whining, an uncowlike sound. Perry facepalmed.

He didn't know the first thing about milking. He wasn't that much of a mammal. But... a cow couldn't self-milk. If he abandoned his nemesis with an udder about to burst he'd be morally responsible for any medical issues that resulted. That was one report he really, really didn't want to write.

The werecow hung its head, trembling. Perry thought about all the nice, normal evil scientists he could have been foiling tonight, with nice normal Halloween plans like raising the dead or turning the moon into a giant jack o'lantern. He sighed. Not having any sleeves to roll up he slicked down the fur on his arms instead.

This would be a job and a half. When he thought about cow udders, which was rarely, he'd imagined a big bag of milk with multiple access points. Now he realized each teat led to a separate milk gland. They'd all have to be emptied in turn.

His first move was to use up all his disinfecting wipes on the udder and teats. The cow enjoyed the wiping more than he did. Then he pushed the creature to make it stand up, assuming gravity would help let down the milk. 

The teats looked tiny protruding from the swollen udder, but Perry's paw barely spanned one. He tugged experimentally. Nothing happened. He tugged harder. The cow scraped its forefoot. He was hurting it and getting nowhere. 

He needed to think like a scientist. There must be some kind of valve holding back the milk. He grasped the teat at its base, palmed it with his other paw and squeezed. 

A jet of liquid erupted from the teat and hit him in the face. He spat. Milk ought to be cold and hygienic. This stuff was fatty and disgustingly warm, probably chock full of bacteria. Aiming away from himself he squeezed the teat again. More liquid sprayed across the ground. The werecow gave a very human sigh of relief.

He was milking Doofenshmirtz.

He didn't get paid enough for this. _Nobody_ got paid enough for this.

Perry focused grimly on his task. He set himself a rhythm, working the fleshy tube between his palms and drawing out the milk in spurts. Progress was painfully slow. He tried not to speculate if he could get all the milk out before Doofenshmirtz transformed back, or what might happen if he couldn't. 

When he stopped for a breather his throat was dry and his muscles were protesting all the way up to his shoulders. The flow of milk had died down to a dribble. Most of it had pooled in a dip in the ground. As far as he could judge one single teat had yielded over a pint. The total might add up to more than half a gallon. Pumping it all out was going to be a pain. 

Perry allowed himself a surge of annoyance. With a regular cow he'd rustle up a calf from somewhere. But he couldn't feed an innocent baby on evil scientist milk. Odds were they'd end up with a werehuman who built inators from reapers every full moon. 

Then he had a brainwave. He put padded alligator clips on two of the teats. That way he could work them both at once. With both arms in play separately he couldn't aim very well and got splattered a number of times, but when he finished the udder was considerably deflated and the werecow was looking a lot happier.

Perry wasn't. His arms trembled from the exertion, his fur was sticky, he ached worse than ever and his throat felt sand-blasted. He could cope with the rest, but dehydration was becoming a serious problem. The field rations in his hat didn't include any liquids. Nothing to drink except...

Perry knew his limits. He couldn't go on without fluids even if the milk turned him into a werecowpus with salmonella. When this ordeal was over he'd get a complete health check, that's all. 

He put his head underneath the last teat. The lingering smell of disinfectant reassured him a little. Taking the teat between his paws in the now familiar grip, he angled the jet of milk towards his face and tried to catch it in his mouth. The milk hit the hard surface of his bill and sprayed out on both sides. A few drops found their way down his throat. The taste wasn't terrible once he got used to it.

He was still thirsty, and his stomach rumbled. There was only one way for him to drink from the teat without most of the milk going to waste. He clamped his bill around the rubbery tip. The warm fluid spurted into his mouth. He squeezed and swallowed until his stomach was pleasantly full and his thirst was gone. 

Perry ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Creamy milk coated his mouth and throat and fell in droplets from his bill. 

He'd suckled Doofenshmirtz. 

He'd done what he must in order to survive. Repulsive but necessary, like drinking a fellow agent's urine in the desert. Now he just had to put the memory behind him and move on. 

The sky was growing pale. Dawn was coming. Perry extracted the last drops from the teat and patted the flaccid udder to be sure. He was done. It was time to walk away and not look back. 

He'd barely turned around when the cow twitched violently. It threw back its head, hooves grinding against the asphalt, and suddenly the hooves became hands. The udder had shrunk. Another spasm, and the cow's whole body contracted. In two heartbeats the beast was gone. Doofenshmirtz crouched in front of him on all fours, disoriented and half naked. 

"Wha' happened?" His eyes fell on the platypus next to him. "P-Perry? Oh crap, I remember now! Am I still possessed?" 

Perry said nothing. Doofenshmirtz got to his feet and patted himself for traces of cow anatomy. Finding none he began to smile. 

"You broke the curse! The cow's gone! I can feel it! How did --" He looked at Perry's sticky, clotted fur. Then he looked at the ground, awash in milk. His smile faded. "Did..." 

_Don't ask don't ask don't ask_

"Did you _milk me?!_ "

Somewhere the sun was shining on a tropical island. Gentle waves lapped the shore while pretty women served margaritas. With all his willpower Perry focused on being there. 

"Okay, that's just... I have no words. Really, I'm all out." Doofenshmirtz drew the rags of his lab coat around himself. "Let's just agree nothing ever happened, 'kay?"

The first good idea he'd had all night. Perry gave him a weary thumbs-up. 

"Thanks, Perry the Platypus. For nothing. I mean, for the thing that didn't happen." Doofenshmirtz cleared his throat and half turned. "I'll be going now." 

_Finally_. Perry began to trudge towards the fire escape. If he climbed to the rooftop he could use his glider to get home. 

"Uh, Perry? You, you look dead on your feet. Are you all right?" 

Perry trudged faster. His toes stuck in a crack in the asphalt and he stumbled.

"Watch out!" Doofenshmirtz caught up with him in two strides. Perry tried to wave him off and nearly fell over into a milk puddle. He landed on all fours. That wasn't right. He ought to stand on his front legs when he wore the hat. Or something. He held back a yawn that threatened to turn into a burp. 

A pair of long bony hands closed around him and set him upright, hesitated, then lifted him off the ground. "As long as none of this is happening you might as well come with me, Perry the Platypus. You don't look like you'd make it under your own steam. If you even have any steam-driven vehicles, which I doubt." 

Settling Perry into his arms Doofenshmirtz started to walk. His coat had fallen open again. Perry wriggled, trying to get into a marginally more dignified position. Doofenshmirtz just held him tighter. 

"Ugh, your fur's all gooey. When we get home you can have a shower and a nice long nap." Doofenshmirtz yawned hugely. "I think we both could use one." 

Perry gave in and let his eyelids fall shut. He lay cradled against his nemesis's naked chest, digesting his milk. How could something so wrong feel so not exactly wrong? 

"You're so cute when you're sleepy. If I posted pics of you on my blog I'd get a million likes. I bet Monogram would love them too. What do you think?" 

Perry was too tired to smack him. The last thing he heard as he sank into sleep was Doofenshmirtz humming something that might or might not have been a lullaby. 


End file.
